As long as I’m using this blog to support family causes such as my parents’ anti-fluoridation work, I should also throw in a plug for my sister’s company’s new video, which nicely showcases their customizable dresses and headbands for girls 3-7 and their dolls. Great fun for those who enjoy spontaneous, open-ended accessorizing!

The world of children’s music suffers from a constant influx of “regular” musicians who have kids and then decide to do a children’s album — or so laments a friend, anyway. Since these Johnny-come-latelies haven’t made a study of other children’s music, they go for low-hanging fruit (writing songs about all of the usual topics: dinosaurs, brushing teeth, sharing, naps) and make rookie mistakes (like using irony and humor in ways that kids won’t understand).

Not being a professional musician, I’m not guilty of that particular sin. Instead I’ve taken the equally cliched path of fancying myself a children’s book author despite being largely oblivious to the standards of this genre.

As a science-for-the-masses guy, I’m proud of this book. It presents the math in a fun, relatively accessible manner without being preachy. And yet, even now that the book is done, I still can’t really define its target audience. The story is too simplistic for anyone over the age of 10, and the math is too hard for anyone younger than that.

For now, I’m billing it as a “mini math mystery for the whole family.”

It took him six months during the spring and summer of 1974 to record the title track [of the album Born To Run]. [Guitarist Steve] Van Zandt now laughs at the thought of it. “Anytime you spend six months on a song, there’s something not exactly going right,” he says. “A song should take about three hours.” But Bruce was working with classic-rock motifs and images, searching for the right balance musically and lyrically. Born To Run marked a change in Springsteen’s writing style. Whereas previously it seemed as if he had a rhyming dictionary open beside him, now his lyrics became simultaneously more compact and explosive. What mattered to him was to sound spontaneous, not to be spontaneous. “Spontaneity,” he said, in 1981, “is not made by fastness. Elvis, I believe, did like 30 takes of ‘Hound Dog,’ and you put that thing on,” and it just explodes.

That’s what the writing process is like for me as well: a whole lot of fumbling around in search of a version that sounds crisp, forceful, and honest.

I don’t have many “Born To Run”-esque examples in my portfolio, but “Sing A Song Of Mom” is one composition that comes to mind. I remember struggling with the tune for an entire afternoon, then thinking, “What if I made it sound more like ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’?” And I tried that, and it worked, and I was on my way to a breezy song that sounded as though it had been written in half an hour. Perfect.

2. Of all the things I meant to blog about this year, one of the most glaring omissions was my non-coverage of the United States men’s first-ever team gold medals at the IAU 100K World Championship in September. The American women took home silver. Belated congrats to all.

@brianglanz Do people tell you you resemble Anderson Cooper but with much less gray/white hair? Am in Phoenix airport surrounded by CNN… [Aug. 31]

I’m now being followed by a scientist whose handle is “sh*tmyratsays.” LOL! [Oct. 10]

Today I met Stan Wentzel (@WilliamsCollege Class of ’74), who wrote the “Sleep Country USA” jingle — 20 years ago! [Nov. 12]

This AM my son hid my keys just as I was leaving. I hope my calm rxn gave him so little satisfaction that he’ll NEVER EVER DO THAT AGAIN. [Nov. 30]

My son just referred to jumping high with a “poke-poke stick.” Took me a second to realize he was talking about a pogo stick. [Dec. 6]

Now working on a song about HIV transmission — loosely based on Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.” It’s more tasteful than it sounds. #Heathers [Dec. 18]

You know you’re a dad when you’re at a fantastically close basketball game (#Virginia 83, #Redhawks 77)…
…and all you can think about is how much the announcer reminds you of the guy who voices Skipper in “The Penguins of Madagascar.” [Dec. 21]

Just went kayaking in a SC lagoon populated with alligators. Probably good that my 5-year-old wasn’t with me. [Dec. 24]

Just met a guy who took accordion lessons from Gordon Lightfoot at a camp in upstate NY in the early ’60s. Yes, THE Gordon Lightfoot. [Dec. 26]

As I continue to sort through old books and files, I just came across the speech I gave at my high school graduation in 1991. It’s neither great nor terrible — just an interesting snapshot of how I thought and expressed myself at the age of 18.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Honored guests, parents, friends, and classmates:

To begin with, I want to thank my parents, my teachers, my coaches, and the Rutland High students themselves for everything you have done for me over the years. Without your guidance and support, I wouldn’t be standing up here.

I have agonized for many hours about what I should say tonight, and I was thinking that, to begin with, I could wish my classmates “Good luck.” I assumed that no one would protest such a simple and uncontroversial message. But then why is it that in last year’s Rutland High School yearbook, senior class president Zach Kron wrote, “I wish you all success, profit, and above all happiness… but not luck. Luck is for rabbits.” And Ralph Waldo Emerson — an even greater philosophical authority — once said, “Shallow men believe in luck.” Apparently, luck has a somewhat tarnished reputation. But I believe it’s a reputation it doesn’t deserve.

To understand why we should dare to utter the words “Good luck,” it is important to first consider what luck is. A standard dictionary definition would say this: “Good fortune coming by chance.” This definition seems pretty reasonable on the surface. Still, it does not quite correspond with many people’s understanding of the word.

Students usually talk about luck in situations like these: someone takes many guesses on an English test, gets a good grade, and says, “Oh, I must have just gotten lucky.” Or a basketball team wins a game when one of its players sinks a desperation shot at the buzzer. But is luck entirely responsible for these people’s successes? Most likely, the studying done by the student helped him or her to guess correctly, and the basketball player’s hours of shooting practice were partly responsible for him or her making the shot.

These examples suggest that what we call luck does not occur totally at random, even though a strict dictionary definition might not agree. Instead, luck often benefits those who have worked hard and have earned it. In general, we create our own good luck by putting ourselves in a position to take advantage of unexpected circumstances. The major league catcher Tim McCarver said of Hall of Famer Bob Gibson, “Gibson’s the luckiest pitcher I’ve ever seen. Because he always picks the night to pitch when the other team doesn’t score any runs.” McCarver was kidding, of course, but his point definitely applies here. What we attribute to fate or chance may actually be a direct or indirect result of our own talent, determination, or other favorable qualities.

Therefore, it is necessary that, as a class, we don’t go into adulthood passively, hoping that luck will make us a success. In school, we have motivated ourselves to accomplish much academically, athletically, and artistically. Our test scores, victories, and musical performances have all, at times, been made possible by luck, but if we hadn’t put time and energy into these pursuits, all the luck in the world wouldn’t have done us any good. In the future, we must continue to be self-reliant and ready to prosper on our own. Then, most likely, we will get a few lucky breaks that will help us to achieve our goals.

Thus, against the advice of Kron and Emerson, I will say to you, my classmates, I hope that you will profit from good luck — because if you do, you most likely will have done something to deserve it.